


Jack of Spades

by With Stars For Freckles (GirlOfSaltAndStars)



Series: you claim its not in the cards (but you're here in my heart) [2]
Category: Now You See Me (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, But nothing is explicit, Foster Care, Gen, Homelessness, Hurt No Comfort, I don't think it's graphic but, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Jack Wilder Needs a Hug, Magic, Non-Graphic Violence, Original Character Death(s), Other, Self-Esteem Issues, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Timeline What Timeline, Violence, ok this sounds really dark, this one is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:20:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23905294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlOfSaltAndStars/pseuds/With%20Stars%20For%20Freckles
Summary: Jack may have a soulmate, but he hopes they never meet. What soulmate could want him?
Relationships: Jack Wilder & Original Character
Series: you claim its not in the cards (but you're here in my heart) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608310
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	Jack of Spades

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: implied/ referenced non-con, child abuse, neglect, self-esteem issues, prostitution, homelessness, and violence.  
> Character is killed, I don't think it's graphic but two people die here. Both are OCs. Also a derogatory remark about religion. 
> 
> this is somewhat dark, way longer and sadder than I meant for it to be. Sorry about that gang. I am religious so this is not calling out any specific religion or hating on it. The bad things are generally implied/ reference, nothing super graphic, but if I have something tagged wrong or missed a warning, please let me know! I hope you enjoy poor Jack's suffering. Also the time-line is strange. Do not think to hard about it. In my head Jack is only like 19 at the start of the movie (not entirely accurate but that's what I'm going with

When Jack first came to Adrian, he was ten, scared, and angry at the world. Adrian and Kelly were the newest set in a long line of foster parents that Jack had been through in his short lifetime. 

They lived in a decent-sized apartment for the part of town they were in- two bedrooms, two bathrooms- but it wasn’t nearly enough for the number of kids they had. They had two of their own kids Meghan who was twelve and rarely spoke. Her sister Emily was four and never shut up (though it wasn’t usually words so much as screaming). They shared a room with Nina, who was their niece or something. She was sixteen and talked even less than Meghan did. They then had three foster kids, Kaden, Ian, and Jack himself. They all had to sleep in the tiny living room. Ian, who was fifteen, took the couch and refused to share so Kaden and Jack slept on the floor with one blanket to share a flimsy pillow each. 

It wasn’t too bad, at first. Adrian and Kelly were technically certified homeschoolers, but they only ever taught when people from CPS came sniffing around. Otherwise, they never bother to do much more than make sure Emily was learning to spell her name correctly. They didn’t have much to eat, usually one, maybe two meals a day, but it was fine. Adrian didn’t make them go to church, or to school, or try to make them behave, long as they acted right when CPS was around. 

And for a while, Adrian just left him alone, let him sleep on the floor, eat his one meal, and generally stay out of the way. Adrian wasn’t bad, he always smiled at Jack, called him “Jacky-boy”, ruffled his floppy hair, and told him to be careful on the streets. 

But Jack had been burned before. Jonathan had been nice, up until Jack had his first nightmare and had accidentally woke them up. Greg had a nickname for Jack but only used it when he was trying to convince Jack that he should be a good kid when he was trying to talk down. Jack hadn’t found that people who had power were trustworthy and he wasn’t sure he was going to find that in Adrian,

Besides, he saw how he treated the others. He didn't know where Nina went every day, but she went every single day and came back with money and often bruises (sometimes worse, though Kaden tried to keep Jack and the other boys from seeing that. The other boys usually weren’t with Jack. They’d send him to pick up cans to turn in for what was essentially chump change or just roam around, while they went off and did other things Jack wasn’t told. One of them usually went with Nina while the other two went off and did something that usually had their pockets filled with money and wallets. 

Jack wasn’t sure what any of them did and wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. 

Adrian wasn’t very horrible to them. Not at all. In fact, he was by far the best thing Jack had gotten in the way of foster parents since… well, ever. But something in his tone, in his nickname, raised Jack’s hackles. But maybe it was paranoia. Because he still gave Jack real smiles- smiles that didn’t make Jack scared and after four months, Jack still hadn’t been yelled at, hadn't been hit, hadn’t been hurt in any way. Adrian just didn’t have enough space but wasn’t bad. Maybe… maybe Jack was paranoid. Sure he spent most of his day on the street, and sure Nina seemed quiet, but that was probably just how she was. 

Just because every other home he’d been to was shitty, didn’t mean this one would be, right? Jack decided to enjoy it. Being called Jack-boy and getting food was a pretty good deal after all. 

But, after four months of smiles and jokes, Adrian got drunk. 

Jack hated it when people got drunk. It had meant that Jonathan and Olivia had started to throw slurs- they never hit him, but they usually screamed either at him or each other. Sometimes both. That meant he wasn't going to get much if any sleep. 

Greg didn’t drink. Refused categorically, because of his religion or something. But, when Walter, one of the other foster boys came home smelling like liquor, Greg lost it. He did hit people, even sober. Often the hit everyone, just as a reminder he would say. “Just to remind you what not to do.” Apparently his religion was ok with that too. 

The other may not have been so extreme, Jack had hardly stuck with them long enough to find out but sometimes just the thought of alcohol was enough to make his stomach turn. 

Jack had been collected by Kaden from the empty lot they were supposed to meet in (though Kadem was far later than he normally was, the sun was nearly set and Jack started to get nervous, all alone) and headed back to the apartment. Kaden wasn’t quite himself- he looked jumpier and kept his hand resting just over his pocket, which was a little unusual for him, and when Jack told him about the stray dog he’d found, Kaden only had hummed in response, which was strange. Usually, Kaden loved dogs. He’d even show Jack a litter of puppies once- they couldn’t keep them of course, but they did take them to a local shelter. But Kaden was probably tired or maybe worried about coming in late. 

Jack didn’t think much of it until they got to the apartment. They were standing just outside the door- Jack was even reaching for the knob when Kaden grabbed his arm and pulled him roughly away from the door. So roughly that Jack couldn’t help but flinch. Kaden looked halfway apologetic, but mostly there was…. Was it fear? Jack wasn’t sure. He’d never seen Kaden really scared. 

” Shit.” Kaden cursed “Adrian’s drunk.” 

Kaden’s voice was barely above a whisper and the hair on Jack’s neck stood up.. “What?” Jack asked “What's-” 

Kaden shook his head “shh,” he hissed “We gotta go in there and be quiet. Don’t draw attention to yourself and just be quiet” once Kaden had mentioned it he could hear Adrian’s voice drift through the door, loud and a woman’s voice, though he wasn’t sure if it was Nina or Kelly, replying. There was a crash and Jack flinched again. Maybe one of the kids, the little ones had knocked something over?

Jack swallowed hard. Adrian wouldn’t hit him, would he? He'd never seen Adrian hit any of them, not even Nina who always looked scared. But something in Kaden’s eyes didn’t sit right with Jack and it made his skin crawl in a way it hadn’t in months. Kaden half looked like he wanted to bolt but, instead, he stepped in front of Jack and opened the door, ever so softly. 

Kaden didn’t hunch over, but he was definitely quiet, eyes pointed firmly toward the ground, Jack couldn’t help but hunch a bit, though he did look up, seeking out Adrian almost against his will. He wasn’t in his usual chair by the TV or by the counter Kaden put his bad one every night (where Kaden was headed then). 

Jack wished he hadn’t looked. 

Adrian was in the kitchen standing over Nina who was far more bruised than normal. She also had a few small cuts running across her face and Jack thought he could see blood on her shirt. Had Adrian done this? 

“Stupid bitch.” Adrian snapped “You let him cut your face, see your soul mark, and you didn’t even get the full payment? “ he roared “You’ve broken the three biggest rules.” 

“I’m sorry, Adrian ''Nina, said, through her tears and Jack couldn’t move. He was transfixed on the scene. Adrian spat, and it landed squarely on Ninja's face. “Go clean up and get back out there,” Adrian shouted. You have thirty minutes and if you’re still in this house I’ll kill you. And if you come back before you’ve made double what you lost today, plus tomorrow’s worth, I’ll do worse than kill you.`` 

Adrian’s words slurred together and Jack was horrified, still standing in the middle of the floor, frozen. He could run, but where would he go? He’d be tossed back in here or sent to yet another home that wasn't any better. 

In his moment of indecision, Adrian turned around and saw him and something on his face changed. He smiled at him, which wasn’t nearly as comforting as it should have been. 

“Jack-boy” Adrian slurred as he stumbled towards him “So good to see ya. You’re- you’re my favorite boy, ya know?” 

Jack just swallowed hard, barely daring to breathe and hoped that was a rhetorical question. 

“Well, as much as I like you Jacky- as much as you remind me of, well, me you need to start pulling your weight around here,” Adrian said, clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder and squeezing until Jack’s shoulder ached. It wasn’t the gentle or friendly pat he was used to, it was hard and rough and Jack wanted nothing more than to wrench free. 

“Yes, Adrian” Jack managed to eek out.”Of- of course-” 

“Good, I’m glad you agree. We can’t have any ingrates here. I feed ya, let you sleep, don’t make you go to school.” Adrian grinned “I treat you all good, especially you Jacky. I knew you needed some time to settle in, but now you’ve just about overstayed your time as a guest. You’re a part of the family, you gotta hold your own.” 

Jack just nodded and wished he’d followed Kaden to the couch and hidden on the floor rather than stopped and watched whatever was happening. 

“I was thinking of sending you with Nina.” there was a strangled noise behind him that Adrian didn’t seem to hear but it made Jack’s heart rate jump up.

“But, she isn’t doing so well herself.” Jack could smell the whiskey on his breath and “And I don’t know if you’re cut out for that. Sides’- you- you’ve got quick hands. Go with Kaden. Have ‘im teach ya what he knows. Maybe you’ll make enough money so that you can stay doing that. Sat tomorrow. I expect Kaden to bring in his normal haul. You need to at least bring in something.” 

Adrian sighed and stumbled back to the kitchen “Don’t let me down, Jacky-boy, I know you won’t.” 

\-- 

Jack went onto the streets with Kaden for the first time the next day. 

Kaden was a pickpocket, first and foremost, apparently. Jack really didn’t want to know what Nina did, then. 

He also did card tricks. Jack had tried stealing wallets between homes but hadn’t had much luck in the past. It was a rough few days, with lots of running and a few close calls. But, at the end of the day, Kaden always had enough and Jack usually had at least one wallet, even if he didn’t exactly remember getting it. He wasn’t going to complain about it when they came home to a drunk Adrian every few nights now. 

He got better though, after about two weeks of hard practice. Jack finally found it. It was like a switch turned on inside of him and suddenly, while Kaden did his tricks, he could slip through the crowd, pulling watches and wallets like it was a dance. Of course, he wasn't perfect. He still got caught, didn’t get the goods, he wasn’t a master, but he found his grove. He still couldn’t bring home as much as Kaden, he wasn’t that good, but he was profitable and every time he brought something home, something good, like an expensive watch or bracelet, Adrian smiled he called him Jacky-boy. And as scary as Adrian was when he was drunk, that one night he was fine. Jack was doing well. He was Adrian's favorite and he had someone who actually wanted to be near him. Who actually was proud of him. He’d never had parents, never had a dad, but he imagined that that’s what it would feel like to have one. He’d dreamed of his soulmate, just to have a family, so this was a dream come true. Even if it was illegal who cared? It didn’t matter when sober Adrian clapped a hand on his shoulder and told him he was part of the family. 

Then Jack took up the cards. He used a little of the money, just the loose change, to buy a cheap deck of cards one night (he hid it from Adrian, there was a place in the lot beside the apartment that he could keep it in. He felt bad, just a little, but it was only quarters, pennies, things Adrian would never know to miss) and asked Kaden to teach him. 

Kaden agreed. 

Jack was a good pickpocket. After two months he was almost as good as Kaden, with nimble fingers and slim hands he could grab just about anything. And he was even better at talking his way out if he got potentially caught, though that might be more about him still having a nice soft babyface. But the cards, the cards, when Jack picked them up, when he pulled his first trick, it was magic. The cards, even as shitty as they were, felt magical to Jack. He mastered tricks that Kaden showed him after only one or two tries, they flew for him like they were a part of his body rather than a separate being. When Jack had his cards, he felt alive. He had always imagined that’s what having a soulmate would feel like. 

And he was good- even at eleven and a half, he knew that he was good. In a matter of six months, he’d learned everything Kaden knew to teach him- which was nearly three years worth of tricks. So they switched, Jack would put on the shows, doing the basic tricks but with a flair, with an ease that Kaden didn’t have. And Kaden picked pockets like it was no one’s business, sly as a fox. They were in their element, completely. Occasionally they switched, so Jack could still pick pockets. Adrian didn't know, he didn't really care who did what- or Jack didn’t think he did, but they didn’t tell him about Jack’s skill- Jack didn’t know why, but Kaden insisted. 

“Look, Jack,” Kaden had explained one afternoon, during the lull between one and three o’clock, “Adrian… he likes things a certain way, you know? Besides, he likes the best and thinks you still need to work on pickpocketing. You need to be perfect at that and tricks, then he’ll be really surprised, ok?” 

Jack didn’t like that- he wanted to tell Adrian- he knew that he would be proud- but Kaden was still his favorite, the one who taught him tricks and slipped him candy. And he’d known Adrian longer than Jack had. So, Jack just shrugged, and shoved down the disappointment. Adrian would be happy if Jack could show off two new skills… “Okay,” he agreed finally. 

So when Kaden said they needed to switch, or not tell Adrian,Jack listened. Until he found his soulmate, these people were the closest thing he had to family. 

Everything was fine until Jack got caught. 

He hadn't been pickpocketing for weeks. He’d picked up new tricks from another magician and had been showing those off and trying to teach Kaden how to do them, but it had taken time for Kaden to get it. Jack had gotten cocky, and a little rusty on the mechanics but he should have been fine. Should’ve been ok. 

But he wasn't he got caught- and he was truly caught. The man had him by the arm and didn’t let go, didn’t let go until the cops were there hauling him off to the station and a cell until CPS rolled in with Adrian. And Adrian was furious. Jack could see it rolling under the surface, tension building. If he could have vanished into thin air, he would have loved to. 

He held it together until they were out of the station and in his beat-up old car. Adrian didn’t yell, well, he did, but not until much later, But he told Jack, that until he could pay off what this would cost him he would be going with Nina and Ian. 

Jack spent two months in hell. 

He tried not to think about what he was doing and when he came home, he would find his cards and hide, in the lot, on the roof, in closet, and practice, he would use his cards until he could do the tricks perfectly, with his eyes closed in his sleep. 

When he went ut at night Jack at firs tried to distract himself by thinking of a new trick, but when he realized that he couldn’t do his simplest trick without shaking- feeling rough hands roam over his body- without being in the car, the smell of alcohol and cigarettes- Jack threw up on the roof and then started thinking of nothing. Of counting backward from ten thousand, anything to make himself feel far away. 

No wonder Nina looked afraid. She was trapped in hell. 

He also practices stealing. When he was.. Working he would often steal their wallets, or something else. Jostle a man, walking down the street, after being more careful and far warier of getting caught. It was all he could do. Do what he had to, then come home and try not to think about it. Try not to know. The bruises hurt but other things hurt worse. His hands shook so bad some nights he could hardly dress himself let alone touch his cards. Nina always cleaned him up, always silently. He didn’t look in the mirror after the first time someone cut his back. 

One night he hadn’t done very well, hadn’t gotten much money. It wasn’t even his fault- it was just too damn cold. But Adrian was pissed and when he went to hit Jack something snapped in him. 

“You can’t make me keep doing this.” Jack had yelled in Adrian’s face, running high off of no sleep, fear, and pain that felt rooted in his soul “I can leave- I can call the cops. I-I don’t have to take this!” 

“Where would you go?” Adrian asked in a mocking tone- he was drunk again, he seemed to be getting drunk more now, throwing more things, demanding more money “WHo would take care of you? Another foster home? You’re a teenager Jacky, no one wants that. And what? You’re soulmate?” he laughed and a feeling like ice trickled down Jack’s spine. His soulmate, the one thing he’d always dreamed of finding. He never talked about it, never hoped, but he’d seen soulmates that were amazing, Jonathan and Olivia had not been soulmates and Greg lived alone. But when he saw his mark a card (which made sense, of course, it was the card) he’d hoped for a real family. 

“After what you’ve done, after all of this? What soulmate would want you?” 

Jack didn’t speak for over two weeks. 

He did speak, technically, when he had to. But otherwise, he was silent. He spent as long as he was allowed in the shower every night, wishing he could scrub the feel of the hands off of his boy, wishing he could scrub away everything he’d done or if not that, at least his soulmark. 

He only spoke after Adrian hit him the first time for being an ungrateful bastard. 

After two months Adrian let him go back to Kaden and card tricks.

Jack felt better the moment he put his hands on the cards. Kaden hadn’t been allowed to talk to him during those two months. That was his punishment for letting Jack get caught. They had run on completely opposite cycles, Jack mostly sleeping during the day while Kaden did his tricks then slept while Jack was out. 

Kaden hugged him then. He didn't ask if Jack was ok. His protruding ribs and bruised and scarred back, from one terrible night answered that question well enough. 

“Come on.” Kaden said, “I have some new tricks you’ll love.” 

\--  
He eventually told Kaden everything. 

It took him months. He’d learned how to have nightmares in silence when he’d lived with Jonathan (his nightmare bout car wrecks were far less common now, but when he was 4 and the last thing he saw of his parents was their blood on twisted steel, well, he fucking screamed of course) so he would wake up, face contorted and his body wracked with silent sobs and covered in sweat. 

Kaden was nearly always awake then too. They never spoke- that would give too much away,but he always dragged his sleeping bag closer to Jack’s and lid beside him in silence, and Jack was calmed by his even breathing. 

It didn’t spill out of him then though- he honestly couldn't talk about it, not when Adrian was so close. But one afternoon they finished early, had enough money, nearly three hundred dollars to, to satisfy Adrian, and still had time to kill before they had to be home. They decide to t=walk, just walk, when Jack finally, finally broke. 

He hadn't cried in years, not since he was six, and Greg hit him the first time, but he cried then sitting in an empty lot, blocks away from the apartment, while Kaden sat on the dirt beside him and let him cry. He didn't press, didn’t prompt, didn’t laugh when Jack had to start over three times because he couldn’t stop crying. 

“It was... It was..” Jack didn’t even have the words for it “God, I’m awful. I can’t... I can’t wash it off, Kaden. I can’t wash off the hands.” 

Kaden just gave him a pained smile that looked more like broken glass than a smile and lifted his own shirt. Jack’s breath hitched involuntarily in a panic, for just a moment he was- then saw the scars. 

Just like his own back. Kaden had the same ones. They didn’t talk much after that for a while. Jack needed to process that Kaden, Kaden who was the best thing in his damn life, had been put through the same thing he had. How had he survived it? 

“What’s your last name?” Adrian asked quietly, after a long silence. Jack was startled by the question. 

“I… I don’t think I have one. Never learned it if I did. I just use Adrian’s when asked. It’s what he wants us to do. We are family after all.” 

There was venom on the last word and it tasted like ashes on his lips. The silence stretched again and Jack wondered why Kaden had asked that. 

“We may not be wanted by our soulmates after this,” Kaden said quietly after a long while “Adrian... He makes sure that no one will want us but each other. That’. I accepted that a long time ago. This is the best family I’m gonna get. My soulmate would hate me and my mama would never want me back- not after what I did. But you’re my brother Jack and it ain’t just about the law. We’ve got the same scars. and.. Adrian doesn't like it, but I know my last name. He wants us to use his, hell he doesn't even tell you you have one. But you can have mine. We’re brothers. You’re Jack Wilder.” 

Jack cried at that too. 

\--  
Jack carried that secret, that identity, in his heart for the next year. He was nearly 16 and Kaden was working on being eighteen and old enough to make a run for it. They’d been making good money, way more money than before, and most of it was going back to Adrian, but Kaden had started hiding it, out in the lot where Jack had first hidden his shitty pack of cards and Jack stated putting a little there too, every few days. It wasn’t much but it was enough for a plane ticket. If they could just get out of Chicago, out of Illinois, then maybe just maybe, they could lie low enough that Adrian wouldn’t find them, maybe he wouldn't turn them in for theft like he always threatened he would. 

Kaden had even written a letter to his mom. He’d given it to Jack for safekeeping. 

“I don’t want her to find me here.” Kaden explained “So don’t mail ti now. But if we escape, send it to her. The address is on the inside of the envelope. I.. I want you to do it because I’m too chicken to do it myself, even if we leave. Besides, Adrian is less likely to search for you.”

Jack carried it with him every day, in whatever pocket he had, because he promised Kaden. 

It was fine until somehow, somehow, Adrian caught Kaden. 

\-- 

Jack had been late. They’d split that day, both doing card tricks because people were getting suspicious of their shows when their wallets were always vanishing. Jack had done more tricks than he thought and had come home late. It was Kaden’s turn to put a little money in, so he walked past the lot like normal, then up the stairs, into the apartment and froze. 

Kaden was on the floor, blood pooled around his head. Adrian was standing over him while Kelly cowered in the corner with her hands over Ellie’s eyes. 

Blood dripped from the bottle shards in Adrians’ hand , over his face and shirt. He was panting and the rage on his face was terrible, a fury, unlike anything Jack had seen. Jack was terrified and sick. God, what was happening? What had happened?. “What have you done?” Jack croaked, and Adrian's head whipped up “What have you-” 

“Shut the door dammit” Adrian roared, practically leaping across the room to slam it shut, barely missing Jack with his meaty hands “Do you want the whole damn neighborhood to see? tO call the cops? You wanna go to jail for this?” 

Jack’s stomach had turned when he realized that Kaden wasn't just bleeding, he wasn't breathing. Kaden wasn't; breathing, he wasn't moving he was still, lifeless and his eyes were staring at the ceiling in a way that could only mean death and a noise somewhere between a sob and a screech of anger tore from him “You killed him!” Jack shouted, ``I'm not caring if the whole world heard “You killed him!’ 

“Shut the fuck up” Adrian snapped, taking a step towards Jack “He stoled from me, I bet you knew about it, didn’t you, you little bastard. He was always too close to you, you two were always whispering, conspiring against me.” Adrian swung the bottle in a blind wave but Jack side stepped just in time. The bottle still connected with his side and Jack cried out, but most of it missed him, missed his head narrowly 

Adrian fell forwards with his momentum and Jack took the opportunity,acting before he could think. Hr wasn’t thinking. He could only feel rage, only think ‘ Kaden is dead. Kaden is dead.’ He shoved, Adrian, hard, and the man tumbled to the ground. Jack couldn’t believe it, couldn't believe that Kaden was dead, that he was dead and that Adrian had done it. That Adrian wasn’t even sorry. Kaden was the best of them, the best and Adrian had killed him. Before Adrian could heavy himself back up, drunk enough that his movements were confused, Jack was on the floor too. He’d never gotten not a real fight- Kaden had thrown him how to throw a punch, how to use his size and speed, but he’d never beaten anyone up, but Jack didn’t care. He was hitting Adrian, over and over, his hands hurt but he didn't care

Adrian ladened a few punches himself and managed to clip jack again with the bottle, on the same side and Jack felt it slice open. He didn’t really feel the pain though, not when he was so angry. 

Jack managed to wrestle the bottle away from Adrian before throwing it across the room and watching it shatter on the door. 

He hit him again, now that he was down. Again and again and again, thinking of all the plans Kaden had made, of his hopes of seeing his mom again- the hopes he’d just told Jack he’d even dared dream. Adrian had killed him and ruined that. 

Suddenly, Nina was there, pulling him back, off of Adrian. “Let me go!” Jack shouted, writhing in her grip “Let me-” 

“Jack you killed him!” Nina shouted over him, looking terrified “Jack, Jack! Adrian is dead. You need to run!” 

It took a moment to process. Adrian was… dead? Jack had killed him. He glanced at Adrian and there was only a bloody pulp where Adrian’s face was and his breath hitched. . His stomach rolled. Nina pulled him up forcefully, despite being several inches shorter and shoved him towards the door “Jack, I said go! Kelly is calling the cops now!” 

She hesitated, then grabbed a jacket from the wrack and shoved it in his hands “Wrap your side in this and run!” 

It took Jack a moment, for that to really go through his head, but when it did, he ran.  
\--  
Chicago winter was a season far too unforgiving to be on the streets. 

Jack hadn’t been thinking, not really, when he’d blindly stumbled from the apartment, running as fast as he could, despite the pain throbbing across his back and sides, praying that Adrian didn’t get up, but half praying he did. 

He’d made it out. 

Only just though. It was down the stairs (since when has there been so many stairs? And so many people, so many) then out into the bitterly cold January air. He hunched his shoulders, with only half a mind to be thankful it was dark. No one could see the stains growing on his shirt, or the red on his hands, but for that moment, the exhilaration was too much. He was out. He was away. He was free. 

But, his sides were still leaking blood, stinging painfully with every step. His heart raced, an unsteady rhythm, jumping higher every time someone so much as looked at him. Did they know? Did they know what he’d done? 

Jack shivered violently, not just from the bitterly cold wind that was cutting through his thin jacket. God, what had he done? Would they find him? God, what would he do? Jack wrapped his arms around himself, feeling small, and scared, and half-frozen already Where was he, even? The dark city looked the same to him, now that he was out in it. Nothing was familiar, and the ground didn’t seem steady, for some reason. 

Maybe it was the cold? 

Jack shuddered again and cried out in pain as the tender skin rubbed wrong and he could feel the warm blood leaking from his cuts again. God, what had he done? 

Jack shook himself. He had to keep moving, keep going. Maybe he could find somewhere to go, somewhere to hide, somewhere to sleep. Maybe somewhere to die. Because if they found him, if anyone found him, he’d be worse than dead. He’d be sent to juvie. Or maybe to jail. His life would be more than over. He stuffed his bloody hands into his pockets blindly, hoping that no one had seen him yet. Jack kept walking. 

His legs ached and so did the rest of him and somehow he was sweating and shaking all at once. He’d long lost where he was really, he was in a part of Chicago he’d never been too before- or maybe he had and it was just so darky and hazy he didn’t know anymore. He’d lost track of the number of turns he’d taken nearly twenty blocks ago, and by this point, his toes were so cold Jack wasn’t to make sure he had feet anymore. His ears had gone past pain into pure numbness. Jack’s body shook as he walked and Jack didn’t know if it was the cold (It Was so cold- Jack hadn’t ever been this cold, didn't know there was a cold like this, not anywhere, not ever) or the fear but it was probably both. Could it be both? 

Jack knew enough to know it was fear that spurred him when he saw the cop car. They’d found him. Someone had seen. They’d heard, they’d found him. They’d just looked at him, looked at his eyes, his hands, and they’d known. Known who he is- what he’d done. They knew what he deserved. 

Jack didn’t want it though, as much as he deserved it. He didn’t want to die in jail so he threw himself into an alley, pressing his back against a wall as the car rolled by, barely breathing, just shivering, trying not to draw attention to himself. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want this. He didn’t mean it. 

Jack sobbed when it turned the corner. Loudly, fully, and it burned in his chest, as he drew in the bitterly cold air and he slid down to the ground. It was more like a collapse as his shaky legs gave out. He let himself fall like a marionette whose strings had been cut, crumbling on the freezing asphalt as he tried to cry. It was silent, really, gasps when air isn't coming in so much as trying to force air into his lungs. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t breathe, he was crying, and shaking and it seemed like no matter how hard he gasped his lungs wouldn’t fill. Panic rose. Oh God, he was dying. He was dying. This was his punishment, after what he’d done, he deserved it. He deserved to die cold and not breathing and- 

“Kid, breathe” 

Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder and if Jack had had enough energy to do anything but flinch he’d run. Shoved the hand off, but God, he still couldn’t breathe. 

“Kid, kid, listen, take a deep breath.” The hand on his back began to move in slow circles providing more warmth that Jack expected. “Breathe, it’s ok kid, I ain’t gonna hurt you.” 

Jack gasped for air but managed to get a little. He took a gulping breath, allowing his lungs to fill for what felt like the first time in years. It was short and harsh, but at least he wasn't dying. The panic was still there buzzing his brain as he shivered, but at least he was breathing. 

“That’s god, kid, that’s good” the voice- a man’s voice-said “Keep breathing. Just take a deep breath.” 

Jack gulped down air, eyes still squeezed tightly shut. His heart rate slowly a little, feeling less like it was about to beat out of his chest and his breathing slowly regulated to long slowly gulps instead of romantic gulps. 

“That's a good, good job kid.” The voice said and suddenly the hand was gone. Jack missed it’s warmth immediately. His shivers increased instantly, almost in response, wracking his whole body again.

“Who are you?” Jack mumbled, his words far more slurred than he aimed for them to be. Jack couldn;’d force himself to open his eyes yet, not yet. He could barely force his numb lips to move enough to repeat “Who are you?” 

There was a sudden noise like a car starting and Jack flinched. 

“Ah shit,” the man mumbled suddenly “Look, kid, I gotta go, But here, take this.” Jack cracked his open just in time to watch the man, whose feature he couldn’t make out in the darkness stand up and move suddenly. The man was wearing a hoodie with the hood up. Jack flinched, but instead of the blow he expected, something large and warm landed on his shoulders. His coat. The stranger had given him his coat. “There’s a shelter a couple blocks over, you should be safe here tonight, Try not to freeze, ok? Good luck kid.” 

And suddenly as he’d come, the man was gone, leaving Jack with a too-large coat and confusion. 

He had half a mind not to go- what if it was a trap? What is Jack was going to get killed or worse, what if Adrian was waiting for him? Or the others? Jack didn’t even want to consider it… His body violently shook, even under the heavy coat. No, he had to go. He’d die for sure in the alley, freezing to death like a fucking animal behind a dumpster. The worst that could happen if he'd die anyway, but maybe it would be a quicker death. 

So Jack heaved himself to his feet, forcing his shaky legs to support him, and left the alley. The street was empty. there is no car and no cops. He pulled the long, dark coat around him tighter and forced himself to limp down the road, His side burned, and blood still trickled from the sticky side wound, right above where his soulmark would be, and he couldn’t move nearly as fast as he wanted. The wind still bit at his face, at his ear, his feet, but his torso was no longer being wiped by the bitter wind. 

Finally, finally, he made it the two and a half blocks over, his feet so cold he couldn’t feel them. He wiggled his toes, but he wasn’t sure if he did or not- he wasn’t even wearing shoes, he then realized, only socks. His lungs burned and he paused, gasping for air again, searching through hazy vision and-there it was, a small building, but it was there, lit up on the dark street and something crumbled inside Jack as an overwhelming wave of relief nearly knocked him to his knees. Jack let out a small sob in relief at the sight because he wasn’t sure he could go much further. He practically dragged himself to the door, each step like he was carrying a thousand pounds. The door pushed open with ease when Jack put his weight against it and he didn't have enough energy to correct when he threw too much into it. Jack hit the floor with a thud, flinching at the bright lights and suddenly, he was slipping away, exhausted and scared and too cold to care.

Jack heard a shout, but it was like it was coming from underwater, thousands of miles away from where Jack was, and then there were hands on him again and flinched away, but the darkness in his vision was closing in and all he wanted was to close his eyes. But he couldn't; he wanted their hands off, he didn’t know who they were that they were doing. He wanted them to let go, and he tried to say it, but he couldn't move his lips wouldn’t move and all he could do was groan. Couldn't take it, but his body wasn't fighting. 

He squirmed a little as he felt tugging and pulling like someone trying to get him to his feet, but God, he was tired, so tired. aDN so, col, even with the coat, he felt so, so cold. His body screamed to give in, to rest, but he couldn’t not now, even if his body wouldn't allow him to continue. Somewhere in his mind, he heard the stranger’s words- his assurance that he’d be safe and somehow, that was enough. 

He let the siren song of unconsciousness call him away. 

\---

The next morning, he woke up to a room he didn’t recognize. He forced himself to stay down, to hope that no one had noticed the hitch in his breath when he’d woken up, and forced the panic in his throat down, so he could think. He needed to think. Jack closed his eyes again, and took a slow breath. What had happened? He wasn’t in the house anymore. He was in a bed- a real bed and he was warm. The walls were bare and there were other people in the room, on cots like his, while others moved around. He was still dressed, thank god, even the long coat was still wrapped around him, but several blankets had been piled on top of him. The coat. Jack closed his eyes and pushed down nausea as the events of the previous night came back to him. It was all hazy- hazier than the time he’d gotten drunk with Kaden when he was 14, he remembered her fight with Adrian, the bottle, the blood. He remembered leaving and remembered the bitter cold, the panic (the panic that was once again rising in him. He’d killed him. He’d killed a man. What had he done?). Jack had thought he was going to die, then, there was someone- a person, who’d given him the coat. He couldn’t even remember what they looked like, only that it was a man. He couldn’t remember their voice, only a warm hand, and a coat. Trying to remember what came next was like trying to grab fog, or hold on to the last wisps of a dream. He remembered, the cold, the pain, the panic, and then..nothing. 

But, he’d survived the night and had somehow ended up on a nice cot in a warm room. No one had stolen anything from him and though his whole body ached, he could already feel the beginnings of sickness in his cheat, and the looming threat of being arrested. , he still felt safer than he had… well, safer than he’d felt in years. 

His side was crusted in blood and ached fiercely, but it was no longer bleeding. Someone had bandaged his hands- they weren’t cut, Jack didn’t think they were cut anyways- and had been cleaned. He slowly sat up, hissing in pain as his side protested, swinging his legs off the side.

“Hey, look who is finally awake!” Someone called and suddenly a woman, with brown hair going grey at the temples was rushing to his side. Her eyes were full of concern but Jack still shied away when she reached out, flinching on instinct. She paused, her hand hovering just above his shoulder for a moment before she dropped it and took a step back. 

“Are you alright?” She asked quietly “You gave us quite a scare last night. You came in looking half dead and wouldn’t let us touch your sides. I was about to call a doctor, you’d been passed out for so long” 

Jack ducked his head and tried to ignore how his heart jumped in his throat. “I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.” 

The woman pursed her lips and crossed her arms “Young man, you came in without shoes on, bleeding, and half-frozen despite your giant coat. You are far from fine.” 

Jack didn't respond and just turned away his gaze, stuffing his hands into his pockets. She wasn’t wrong. One of the few things he remembered from the night before was the feeling of absolute certainty that he was going to die. If it hadn’t been for the stranger, he likely would have. (would that have been so bad? A small part whispered. To die, like the dog you are? The voice sounded suspiciously like Adrian)

The woman nodded “That’s what I thought. You’re going to at least let me or someone else clean up your side, and I’m going to feed you and find you some shoes before I let you out on the streets again. I’m going to get the meal first, so don’t you move until I get back.” 

A cold bolt of fear shot through Jack. No! He had to go, otherwise, the cops would find him, he had to leave the city had to get out. He clenched his hands tightly and his fingers closed around something. It felt like paper. Jack pulled it out and his mouth dropped. It was a ticket. A bus ticket to New York. Sure it wouldn’t be as fast as a plane or train, but less security. Not to mention it was free and the name on the ticket, Devin Hearst, meant nothing. And the bus didn’t leave for another day and a half. 

Maybe... Maybe he could lay low here. If he had to run, it wouldn’t be hard. It seemed like most people only used the place as somewhere to sleep because most of the kids who were there had already filtered out and the remaining two didn’t seem interested in him., only bundling up for the cold.

“See you, Aunt Faith,'' One of the girls called as she exited the room, just as the woman- who assumed was Faith - entered. Jack reflexively stuffed the ticket back in his pocket. He couldn’t let these people see it and risk them taking it from him. 

Faith smiled “See you tonight Rebecca, or I hope to. You know you can..” 

The girl’s smile turned slightly sharp “I know. I’ll be back tonight and Zayana better not take my bed again.” 

Faith just chuckled and waved as the girl left, leaving the two of them alone in the room. 

Faith was holding a tray with a bowl of something that was steaming, as well as some fresh fruit on the side. His stomach betrayed him with a growl at the sight of the food. He hadn’t eaten since the apple he’d stolen over twenty-four hours ago and he’d long since burned off those calories. 

She smiled softly and sat it down at the end of the cot. “Now, there’s oatmeal here, I didn’t put much on it, but I didn’t know when you’d last eaten so I didn’t want to give you anything to upset your stomach- oh.” 

She laughed as Jack took the bowl off the try and tore into it, giving up on seeming civilized immediately. It was warm and it was food and Jack wanted to eat it before it vanished. 

“I guess you don't mind then.” Faith sat on the bed across from him, watching him while he ate. It was strange but Jack’s body was demanding he finished the food, so he didn’t care if she was there or not. 

When he finally finished the bowl he sat it to the side and took up the fruit, eating the rather small portion in just a few bites. 

“Feel better?” Father asked quietly “If you hold that down alright you can have some more in a few hours, I just don’t want to make you sick. I’m Faith, by the way. Most of the kids who know me call me Aunt Faith. You can call me Faith, Aunt faith, Ms. Faith, whatever you’re comfortable with. Can I have your name?” 

Jack didn’t know if he should tell her. He wanted to, she looked trustworthy, warm, and safe, but the words stuck in his throat. It was dangerous to give out his name. Jack swallowed hard. He could do it. He wouldn’t tell her his last name- hell, he didn’t know what the last name would even be on the warrant, so he said “Jack. My name is Jack.” 

Faith gave him a gentle smile “Nice to meet you, Jack. Now, can we clean your sides? I know you were bleeding last night and I don’t want that to be infected. I am a former nurse, so I know how to do it, but If you want, you can clean it and I will just make sure you get it bandaged right. I just don’t want you to go back onto the streets with an infection.” 

Jack pushed, as much as he didn’t think that woman would hurt him- not now after hours of opportunity, the idea of someone looking at his sides, of potentially seeing his mark, he couldn't bear it. No one could ever see that, not now. Not after what he’d done. Jack could hide it though with a bandage and she wouldn’t be any the wiser. He knew how to wrap too- Nina had shown him and he’d still had to use it on himself and Kaden many times. “I can do it.” she said, “If you get me the stuff I know how.” 

Faith studied him for a moment with an unreadable expression before standing up and nodding resolutely. “Yes, of course. I’ll be back in a moment.” 

\----  
Jack patched himself up with no problems and starkly ignored the mark on his side. The soulmark and been right in the middle in one of the deep cuts but the skin there was already on its way of healing. 

He couldn’t stay with Faith long. No matter how safe it felt. So, he thanked her and packed his bags before he even entered the bathroom. She tried to insist he stay at least one more night, but Jack couldn’t do it. Every siren he heard- and ones the mostly existed in his head he knew were coming for him, The buildings seemed to grow closer together and Chicago was shrinking. He had to leave. 

When he was wrapping his wounds, he’d found Kaden’s letter. There was a little blood on it, the envelope anyway. Jack had started at it, in the small bathroom and had to bite a fist to muffle the sobs. Kaden would never watch him deliver it- never wait for a reply. His mother wouldn’t hear from her son, because Jack had gotten him killed. 

Jack could at least give it to her though. 

He unfolded the letter- only to find the name- and there it was. Faith Wilder. The address wasn’t Chicago but it didn’t matter. The lady, his eyes, her smile, those were Karen’s eyes. His smile. Kaden’s mother. The shaking started in his hands. He had to leave before she found out, before she hated him for getting her son killed. He started to fold the letter so that he could leave (the least he could do was leave the letter) but the first line caught his eyes and he couldn’t help but read it. 

“Mama, if you’re reading this, I’m probably never coming home. I will likely be dead somewhere…”  
\---  
Thirty minutes later, Faith Wilder, better known as Aunt Faith to the homeless teens unlocked the bathroom and found an open window and a blood-stained letter on the counter. She had opened the shelter in hopes that her son, last seen in Chicago would eventually wander in. He hadn’t yet, but she wasn’t giving up hope. Besides, the other kids needed someone to look after them, after all. Like that poor Jack boy. She picked up the letter with apprehension. The outside had a note scrawled on it, that said “He was the best of us. I’m sorry.- Jack.”

Something in her gut turned and she opened the letter. By the time she finished it and collected herself enough to think, Jack was on a train bound for New York. 

\----  
He spent the next year and a half in New York. The train Ticket in the pocket of his coat got him there and he stole enough wallets to buy four sets of decent cards, some clean clothes and hit the streets again. New York was another world, far different from Chicago. It was the best city in the world, in his opinion. 

There were more street performers, for more, and they ranged from music to magic, to almost anything else. Jack loved watching them, especially the magicians. He saw Daniel Atlas, once, in his performance and it was amazing. He was a different kind of magician than Jack was, but far better, too. He was everything Jack aspired to be. But, Jack knew his talents And it was in the sleight of hands and cards. 

There were other performers, too, who were good with cards. He liked to watch their shows, and figure out their tricks. It wasn’t hard usually, especially if he got close enough. And then, he started doing his own tricks. It was hard to come up with new ones. Almost everything had been done somewhere at some point, but Jack could at least come up with variations, with tricks that stunned people. Jack learned voices too, just as a hobby, something else to throw in, though he was better at imitating real ones than funny ones. He slept on the streets for the first three months he lived in New York- cleaning his bandages in McDonald's bathrooms and Showering in pit stops for truckers. But, by the time He’d been there six months, Jack Wilder was a name on the street. It wasn’t famous, not even like Atlas was famous on the street. But people knew that Jack wilder meant that you were going to get a hell of a card show (and maybe your pocket picked but it was half the fun for most people, the thrill of maybe getting their money stolen. Damn rich people) 

Jack was always careful though- he didn’t want to be arrested- no Cops ever came for him and he kept a low profile, always setting up his next show a few streets over, erratic, fun, and new. He Learned to smile for the crowd but then vanished the second his show was done, with tips and wallets in hand. 

He Could afford to stay in motels, after a while/ cheap motels eyes, but a motel with a bed and a shower. A place he could put his things as long as he kept the door locked and praised the $15 a night. And when he average around $50 a show and then two wallets a day, Jack could more than afford it. Most of the time he earned more, his best days collecting upwards of $300 in tips and if he felt brave five wallets or a necklace or two. He tried to only steal from the people with suits, the ones who had plenty of money- the type to carry cash not because they didn't have a bank to put it in, but because it was an easy way to tip a hooker or pay a bribe. And he still stole, walking down the street, businessmen were the easiest targets, talking on their phones, angry enough at being bumped into (if he even had to bump them) to notice their wallet was gone until long after Jack was. 

Jack also liked motels, so he could sleep easily. TI also meant that when he had nightmares almost every night, usually Adrian’s face or Adrian’s hands, or the hands of men and women who he’d like nothing more than to forget all over him, taunting him, blaming him.) no one would hear him scream. No one would call the cops because he had a pillow to stuff his face into or they thought he was just having a good time if someone he couldn’t keep quiet. 

It kept him from people too. Jack avoided other performers, he avoided the street kids, he avoided anyone. He still framed sometimes (sometimes even when he's awake) that his hands were bloody, or that they somehow, could see how dirty he was, that people could see all the things he’d done, everything he had done that was nasty. 

He dreamed at night that he was doing tricks and the cards started bleeding, gushing of blood, and the kings were no longer kings, but aces, Adrian on the floor, bloodied from Jack’s torn fists or Kaden dead in a pool of his own blood, skull bashed in. it was Nina, crying on the floor, silently treating his cuts some nights before he returned the favor. It was Ian who simply moved like a ghost. It was Kelly and her meek ways and her soulmark that splotched across her face a reminder of the soulmate she lost. 

And the cards were bleeding and his fingers were cut, and he was bleeding and the crowd knew. They just... Knew somehow. They weren't the worst though. The worst were the ones were just Kaden. 

Sometimes he was already head, half his face gone, or worse yet a skeleton with skin peeling off, taunting Jack ``Your fault,” he’d say “This is your fault. My parents will never even know what happened to me. If you hadn’t acted out, hadn’t been stupid enough to pick a hiding place so close to the hours, I’d be alive..” 

Sometimes the words changed. Sometimes Kaden was alive and Jack watched him die, watched himself kill Kaden. 

Sometimes Kaden killed him. 

He knew, he knew it wasn’t true, that Kaden didn’t blame Jack. Kaden never would have done that- Kaden wasn’t even convinced he was going to leave (Jack wasn’t either, not until he had to run, run for his life). But God, it seemed like it. Everything Adrian said, No one would love him but them. The only person who loved him, the two people who had cared for him were dead and he’d killed one of them. 

No, his soulmate would never, ever want him. 

Jack avoided people. He finally took to putting makeup on his soul mark. heavy, professional stage quality makeup that was hard to rub off with anything less than powerful remover was applied every morning and set with a powder and if it didn’t work, he covered it with a bandage. He knew that his soulmate would have him. He Was nothing but broken, a criminal, a murderer, and dirty. Jack had the streets in his blood now, had crime and murder and blood in his soul. His soulmate would somehow see it- people always said that your soulmate could see who you were, the real you. 

Jack didn’t want anyone seeing that. 

He knew that if they could, they could run, they would leave him. He knew his worth, he knew what he was. He just prayed that no one else ever found out. 

His nightmares diminished, slowly, being replaced by better sleep, or often no sleep. They were just as bad when they came, however. 

When he got his card from the Eye (something he had heard about only in whispers on the street from other magicians and brief mentions in books) it was that tarot of death. 

Jack didn’t want to know how they knew, how they learned about what he’d done. But he knew the card was for him. Why the eye wanted him? He didn’t know. He Was only good at cards and sleight of hands. But they wanted him and they knew exactly who the card was for, so he went. 

The moment he saw the other horsemen, he knew. 

None of their marks were visible. Not that they would be, if they matched Jack’s one, but he knew. Of course, no one could really know unless they compared marks, but somewhere, deep in Jack’s soul, he knew. It was like clicking into pace, despite their rough edges, Jack had a good feeling about it. 

Jack knew that one day he’d see their marks and there would be no doubt about who they were and that one day they would find him out and leave him alone just like he deserved. But Jack was selfish, too, and couldn’t bear the thought of not getting this chance so he pushed those feelings far, far down. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t have four soulmates anyway, that was practically unheard of. There was no way he was soulmates with any of them, let alone all of them. 

Maybe, maybe it was just the awe, of seeing the greats of the great, because just as fast as the feeling came it went. Atlas was amazing, the best street performer that Jack had ever seen. Merrit Mckinney was an older act, but unparalleled, even by his brother, in the art of hypnosis. Henley Reeves was the newest but she was talented beyond measure from what he’d heard. 

Jack was just a street kid who could manipulate ards. He didn't belong in the same group as them, didn’t deserve to be trying to get in this secret society. He was in awe of them and that's what the feeling was. Jack couldn’t feel anything but anxiety and anticipation, no, it had just been the reality of it all sinking in. Besides, it was incredibly rare to have more than one soulmate, let alone three. 

As time went on it became obvious that with all the tension, Jack’s gut had to be wrong. They weren’t soulmates. They were at each other’s throats more often than not, and Henely could hardly stand Danny, yet was obviously in love with him- even he could see that. But despite all that Jack was performing, he was performing with people who loved magic and that he thought (despite their words) who genuinely cared about him. They weren’t likely to make him let another person cut his back. 

Jack loved being a Horsemen too much for his gut to have been right. 

Jack had decided there and then, they couldn’t be his soulmates. He couldn’t bear it if they were. If they were.. if they found out… they would hate him. They wouldn't want someone like him, with blood on his hands- in his souls- to be on their show. The eye knew, but if the Horsemen wanted him gone, the Eye be damned he wouldn't be able to deny the others anything. So, they couldn't be his soulmates. They would never know and he would never let them see his mark- just in case. 

Not that they were his soulmates. They couldn’t be his soulmates.

**Author's Note:**

> Just and FYI, the stranger is supposed to be Dylan, not sure if that’s as obvious as I thought it was.


End file.
